


Painted Over Tainted Skies

by stardropdream



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Implied Relationships, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 18:38:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She came home after the window incident, and her father was waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painted Over Tainted Skies

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ September 4, 2009. 
> 
> Based off a conversation I had with a Japanese exchange student at my school, who said that in her society, a girl with scars would be deemed undesirable and damaged. The girl would be "lucky to find a husband."

  
“Himawari, there you are,” her father said that night when she came home. Himawari looked up at him, as if she hadn’t realized her feet had carried her home. She looked around the foyer, confused. “Where have you been? You said you’d be home two hours ago.”  
  
The girl looked at her father, their eyes locking. She smiled. “I’m sorry.”  
  
He released a small sigh and stepped forward, smiling in return while adjusting his glasses. “It’s alright. So long as you’re safe.”  
  
“I’m safe…” she said quietly, letting the words _it’s never me who you need to worry for_ go unsaid, but implied.  
  
Her father reached her, his hand held out towards her. He hesitated just a moment, pausing with his hand hovering on her shoulder, before setting it down on her and squeezing. Himawari resisted the urge to flinch as her father grasped recently torn skin, skin that hadn’t gotten the chance to heal quite yet.  
  
“Were you held up at school?”  
  
“No, not school. I’m sorry… I should have called,” even as she spoke she knew the words were hollow lies—at that time, there was only one thing on her mind _save him save him save him_ —the thought of calling her father hadn’t crossed her mind once.  
  
“Is that Himawari?” a woman’s voice lilted from the kitchen. A few moments later, a woman stepped out, hair similar to Himawari’s own. She smiled. “I thought so. Welcome home.”  
  
“I’m back,” Himawari said belatedly, smiling. “I’m sorry for the bother.”  
  
Her father’s hand was still on her shoulder and he squeezed again, meant to be comforting, but all Himawari could feel was pain, dark screeching pain that shook her down to her core. Yuuko had warned her that the wounds would be painful—  
  
  
  
 _  
“The wounds will be painful,” the witch said calmly, looking down at Watanuki, pale against the sheets. “And he’s lost far too much blood. He hasn’t much time.”  
  
“What do we need to do?” she’d asked, her voice shaking, trying to restrain the tears. She hadn’t asked if there was anything that they _ could _do; there had to be something they could do. There was no time for crying. Not now.  
  
“The fact that you have entered this shop means that you both have a wish,” the witch said, still just as calm. She turned her red eyes on Doumeki and Himawari in turn, her eyes heavy with the knowledge of their wishes. Heavy with something inexpressible to them. “If you are willing to pay the price, I will grant that wish. The wish that you both share.”  
  
The two of them turned to one another, and there was no hesitation in their voices as they said together, “We’ll pay.”  
  
“I thought so.” She looked them levelly in the eye. “Though your wish is the same, the prices will be different.”  
  
“Different?”  
  
“There must be a joint sacrifice to keep this child from disappearing You,” she remarked calmly, pointing towards Doumeki. “Must give your blood. This will solidify the bond between the two of you. Your blood will move through Watanuki, to protect him. And you,” she continued, turning her finger towards Himawari, “Must take the price that will stay with you forever. Blood will regenerate after a given time, but you are responsible for Watanuki’s scars. Those scars will never heal.”  
  
The smoke curled around the room, and Himawari wasn’t sure if it was her fear choking her or the smoke in her throat. She just nodded.  
  
“I’ll do it.”  
  
“Me too.” _  
  
  
  
  
—But it was alright, because Himawari was used to pain. And to take Watanuki’s scars… she was very happy for that. So she could take the squeezing of her father’s hand. Eventually, he dropped his hand to his side and walked away. She followed after him, moving slowly so that she wouldn’t aggravate her back and open the tentative scars perched there.  
  
She knew she wouldn’t be able to tell her father. Not her father, who was so concerned iwht appearances and his work at the television station—where the look of a person made or break them. She knew how her father would view her scars.  
  
Imperfection.  
  
Rejection.  
  
Her father would be outraged. He would be worried about his daughter’s future, suddenly ruined and damaged. Nothing but an imperfection. It would bring her nothing but pain—  
  
  
  
  
 _She couldn’t feel anything but pain. It felt as if something was clawing at her skin, digging razor-sharp claws into her skin and sliding down, pulling her open and leaving her to bleed. She felt the blood run down her back, down her legs, collecting in a puddle on the floor. She was shaking, clutching herself and clenching her eyes shut to try and beckon away the tears she felt she did not deserve to cry._  
  
 _With each curl of magic slicing through her skin, she screamed and her voice rattled the walls. Her fingernails dug into the skin in her arms, as if she, too, were going to claw her way out, as if, maybe, if she bled enough she’d be able to rid herself of her imperfections, of this horrible curse._  
  
 _The pain clenched her heart but it was not nearly so great as the words she was rehearsing in her mind—when she would have to explain things to Watanuki, when she would have to explain things to Doumeki. When she would have to explain why this had happened and why she hadn’t known this would happen and why she hadn’t tried to prevent it—there were no words._  
  
 _She screamed._  
  
  
  
  
—But it was alright. It was alright now.


End file.
